


Aim for the Head

by Taymatoes



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, Amnesia, M/M, Mavin, Mild Gore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-26
Updated: 2013-11-30
Packaged: 2017-12-27 16:12:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/980973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taymatoes/pseuds/Taymatoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pre-virus, Gavin had everything he wanted: a good school in the states, a fridge stocked with booze, and a boyfriend to assist him in drinking it all. That was taken away when the dead started to rise from their graves. For the past few years he has been separated from everything and everyone he loved. Gavin has struggled to find some semblance of normalcy as he is bounced between forts and outposts. When his first field mission, a simple scavenging, goes completely wrong, he is severed once again from what is familiar and thrown into a world much more dangerous than ever before. However, this time, he finds a face he has been desperately searching for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Capture

His hands were squeezed tight round the handle, his fingers shaking at the trigger as he readied himself to fire. Their groans bounced off the walls around them as the undead closed in, their shambling bodies clogging their only exit. An ear-shattering splintering sliced through the air as Dan slammed his boot into the door for the tenth time. The wood had started to splinter away, revealing a caved-in room on the other side. “This way Gavin, we can crawl through here!” He shouts.

Gavin lets the shaking barrel of his gun down as the first of the shamblers catch sight of him. As he runs toward his partner, the man has slipped inside and out of sight. One of the zombies reaches out with a hand, fingers grasping for the tail of Gavin’s jacket, but he ducks beneath the splintered door just in time. The creature watches him, maw snapping with starvation; confused as it bumps into an entrance it does not understand.

“Thank God our apocalypse included the dumb zombies.” He heard Dan whisper under his breath only inches away. 

Gavin sinks from his crouch and onto the floor, watching as one zombie manages to squeeze a groping hand through the gap. “Bollocks. This is the worst.”

“First time in the field is always the worst.” Dan mutters, drawing a knife from his belt and aimlessly cuts off the limb, letting it flop to the ground. The curious zombie stumbles backward, allowing for another hand to squeeze in. “You know you could duck down.” He advised the uncomprehending undead. Bored of his one-sided conversation, he turned toward Gavin, cocking a dark eyebrow. “Ready to keep moving?”

Gavin nods, pulling himself onto his hands and knees. The door had opened into a spot where the wall had collapsed at a slant, allowing just enough room for him and Dan to squeeze through. As they started the crawl, the air became filled with gray dust and stray pieces of plaster, getting in their hair and mouths. “This is the absolute worst.” He complained between bouts of coughing.

This was his first field assignment and it had already turned to piss. It was supposed to be scavenging, the least dangerous. Get into some old buildings, collect what had been left behind and was usable, and get out. The amount of undead was limited; do not waste bullets, as their training told them. However, as a group, they drew out a horde and the two of them had been separated from the rest of the squad. He could have been helping out at the medical center, hell he would rather have laundry duty than be crawling through an instable tunnel with lungs filling with plaster. 

“We don’t even know what is on the other side of this damned thing.” Gavin complained which only received a slap in the arse from Dan.

“It was either this or get eaten by shamblers. Your choice.”

What were two British soldiers doing in downtown Austin in the middle of a zombie apocalypse anyway? That was a decent question. Dan was the real soldier; her Majesty sent him and some of Britain’s finest to help contain the epidemic as it spread in the United States. However, when those efforts failed and the virus spread, he was permanently stranded in the land that was once known as ‘Land of the Free’. He was making the best of the worst-case scenario.

Gavin, on the other hand, was not a soldier. He was forced into the military when they kept losing men to the persistent flesh-eaters. Granted, he was skinny without much muscle mass to speak of, but he was able to walk and fire a gun, and that was all they cared about. Gavin would rather be working in the orphanage or even a field medic, if they really needed him. Instead, they ignored this and handed him a firearm. He remembered when he was just a study abroad student, from the United Kingdom, living in New Jersey. He had good grades, occasionally got drunk, and had a boyfriend. That was all stripped away with the first evacuations.

Honestly, everything was lost when the virus hit.

There was a light at the end of the tunnel, and Gavin breathed a sigh of relief. Behind him, he heard Dan click off the safety of his gun. “Be ready.” He warned, and Gavin felt a new wave of panic rush over him. It was, quite possibly, time for round two.

The first two steps into the new room were met with no response. The room, an office from pre-virus times, sat emptied of almost everything except for a few chairs with their fabric stripped away. No rogue undead to speak of and Gavin exhaled loudly.

Dan pushed out of the tunnel behind him, straightening out with a pop in his back. “Welp, that’s a relief.” A lazy smile cracked across his face. He kicked at a chair leg in his way, sending the stripped frame a few feet away. It clattered against the wall, and the rising groan from beyond that point sent ice down the soldiers’ spines. “Well, that was not.” Dan clicked the safety off his rifle once more, falling into a fighting stance.

Gavin tried to copy his practiced movements, managing only to pull off the appearance of a crack-addicted giraffe waiting for its next fix. His breathing was shuddering next to Dan, who pressed his fame against the door, listening to the shuffling beyond it.

“Doesn’t sound like too many shamblers, we might be able to fight our way out of this one.” Dan said this as if he was attempting to be optimistic and failing miserably.

Gavin gave a weak nod, feeling the color drain from his face. With a grimace, Dan held up five fingers, seemingly lowering them in sync with Gavin’s hammering heart. As the last finger dropped down to his palm, Dan slammed his shoulder into the door and it swung open with a crash. About a dozen heads whipped around to face them, bodies in various states of decay let out a deafening cry at the long-awaited prey. 

The first undead was faster than the rest. He was recently dead, his body still possessing the capability to run and that was its downfall. It rushed ahead of the group, making it an easy target for Dan to sink a bullet straight into its forehead. “Your turn,” Dan laughed, as if this was a game he used to play on the Xbox.

Gavin bit the inside of his cheek and pointed the barrel at the next charging zombie, nearly splitting the skin open as the kickback slammed into him. The bullet sank into the undead’s shoulder, hardly slowing it. Dan finished it off almost without a glance. “You’re a shit shot.”

“Well, then stop faffing about and finish them already.” Gavin bared his teeth, pointing his barrel at the nearest zombie that came at him. This time his shot sank into the shambler’s head and it dropped to the floor. 

In that time, Dan had downed at least six more and hardly stopped for a breath before finishing off the rest of the pack. “Much help you were.” Dan commented, rolling his eyes.

Gavin kicked the only zombie he downed in the side. “At least I got this one,” He was going to make a joke, probably about zombie dicks, when something much more pressing arrived. The safe, windowless office had opened to a much larger glass room, the windows reaching from the floor to the ceiling. Outside, the street was visible, and was clogged with not only abandoned cars but shambling undead that had noticed their presence. With a roar, they rushed at the doors, trying to get through doors that were clearly marked with pull.

“We can’t fight off all of those.” Gavin barely whispered. “We’re fucked.”

He watched a deep frown cross Dan’s face as he readied his gun. The glass around the doors was beginning to crack and it wouldn’t be long before the undead came crashing in. “We’ll give it a shot. That is all we have.”

Gavin nodded, he knew that Dan wouldn’t go down without a fight. That wasn’t the British way. If he had been alone in this situation, Gavin wouldn’t have thought twice about putting a bullet in his brain, it was better than getting eaten alive but Dan seemed to have different plans. That gave Gavin the glimmer of hope he needed not to follow through with his default plan.

The glass continued to splinter, the inevitable wave of zombies only a breath away, and Gavin closed his eyes, hoping to find a moment of peace before his world went to hell. He wanted to be back at Uni, a beer in hand, and a stack of textbooks abandoned in the corner in favor of something (well someone) much more interesting. The image of his face flashed so vividly in front of his eyes that Gavin could count the freckles across his nose.

“Here they come!” Dan warned, his finger wrapped tightly around the trigger.

Then there was a blinking red light. Maybe it was the nerves, but somehow Gavin managed to spot it among the numerous feet of the amassing undead. At last the glass finally broke away, but they didn’t have the time to fire a single shot.

There was heat and fire, the sheer force of an explosion that sent both of them flying toward the back wall, their bodies crumpling against the broken plaster. Gavin could only hear a ringing in his ears, his entire body in agony from the collision with the wall, the floor, and what had probably been Dan’s knee. His vision was darkening as plaster and rotted blood rained down on them.

Gavin tried to get to his hands and knees, crawl to Dan, but his consciousness was already slipping fast. The world was disappearing, and for a chilling moment, Gavin wished it were death. It would be better than to meet an end by the jaws of a zombie.

Figures were headed toward them, faster than any undead could move. There were shouts and gunfire, but Gavin was losing a downhill battle. Hands, warm and alive touched him, but the world spun one last time and went dark.

He did not wake up at the pearly gates. The room was not nearly clean enough for that. It wasn’t even a hospital bed that he was strapped tightly against. Instead, he sat with his head hung to his chest, arms tied behind him and legs bound tightly. The only sound was a steady drip of water from the corner of the room, echoing only into one ear. The other still rang with the explosion, refusing to cooperate with the rest of Gavin’s panicking brain.

His entire body ached, and out of the corner of his eye he saw the burns that snaked their way in between holes in his uniform. His breaths came out ragged and dry, his entire mouth tasted like an odd mixture of plaster and blood. He tried to call out for someone, but his throat refused to make a sound. Dan would’ve laughed. Gavin speechless was a true novelty.

Dan. Where was he? The realization washed over Gavin and he lifted his head too fast, causing stars to appear in front of his eyes. The room was empty, bare stained walls stared down at him, the only break was a single door on the far end. It was small; maybe once upon a time it was a closet. Now, it was his prison. Dan was nowhere in sight, only Gavin.

‘I have to get out of here.’ Gavin thought, twisting in the chair. The movement only shot waves of pain up his back, reminding him of the collision with the wall. Not only did he have the burns, but he was probably littered with bruises as well. Taking a deep breath and clenching his teeth, he gave one violent jerk to the left. It failed to free him from any bonds, but it did send his body crashing down with a violent thump. 

Pain wracked every inch of his body, and he had to bite his cheek to keep from screaming. There were muffled footsteps already coming toward him, the door that had been closed swung open, revealing a pair of deeply stained combat boots. “Holy fuck, it lives.” The voice was distinctly American, distinctly not-Dan. 

A thickly tattooed arm crossed his vision as a pair of strong arms gripped at his shoulders. Gavin failed to not groan as he was lifted away from the floor and upright once again. When the world finished swirling, Gavin was able focus on the man. He was taller than Dan with a much thinner and meaner look. Dark hair was plastered to his face with sweat and an unkempt layer of stubble covered his chin. Eyes as blue as ice locked onto him.

“You’ve caused us plenty of trouble soldier boy.” He started out, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “First, your buddy shot one of my men and escaped while we were busy dealing with the horde you attracted. Second, we dragged your unconscious ass back here because can you imagine the consequences of letting one of the Fort’s precious soldiers die?” The man snorted, narrowing his gaze. “They would come down on our asses so fast, we wouldn’t know what hit us.”

“Then why don’t you take me back already?” Gavin asked drily, his voice cracking.

“Streets are swarming with more undead than usual. Taking you back would be a suicide mission. Nah, we’re gonna keep you around as a—“ The man waved his hand as if to snatch the right word out of the air. “Bargaining chip, I guess.”

Gavin’s heart started to slam itself against his ribcage. These were the ‘outliers’ he had been warned about. People that refused to live within the Fort’s walls. They forgo safety and security, to survive simply for their own gain. They liked to play a rather violent game of poker with the Forts, often using captured soldiers for their bets.

The defense had recently chased a group out of the western part of the city, but they obviously missed a few. 

“Look, I know you types don’t trust men like me, but believe me I’m only looking out for my people. You would do the same.” He shrugged. “If it helps, the name’s Geoff, I’ll be your host for however long.” With a dismissive shrug, he started to leave the room, however he paused in the doorway. “And don’t worry, I’m sending my best man down to look at those burns. Also, you won’t be stuck in the chair forever, I just don’t need a loose soldier running around my base while I have one man down and two more out.” He smiled, as if this was supposed to make Gavin feel better. “Once I have the odds stacked against you, then you will be allowed some freedom.”

It seemed, until that moment, that he was going to be stuck in a chair, shoved into the back of a closet. Geoff closed the door behind him with a definitive click, leaving Gavin by himself once more.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a good chunk of the backstory because otherwise I would forget until the end.

Fort Austin was one of the longest standing beacons of hope in the post-virus world. Towering walls casted a shadow on the husk of the former city, and inside life teemed, quietly recovering from the shitty hand it had been dealt. The streets were grimy and the homes were overpopulated, but it was better than turning over thousands of people to the maws of the undead. While it wasn’t the cleanest Gavin had ever been in, it was definitely the safest.

Gavin had been in the United States for almost six months when the virus hit. His study abroad term was nearing its end, he had a ticket back to England sitting on his dresser, and he was in the middle of arguing with his boyfriend about whether he was going to visit England or Gavin was going to make the trek back to America over the summer. That was never resolved.

The first outbreak was in Boston. It was December, a few short weeks before Christmas, when the news reports came flooding in of the killer virus. At first, people seemed to just drop dead and then in a few short hours, if the head was not removed, the corpse reanimated and took down anything living thing in its path. 

The virus spread too quickly for containment, it spread down the east coast. As it drew near, evacuations were called. 

“Michael, MICHAEL.” Gavin’s own voice rang through his head. He shouted into the phone’s receiver, their call failing as the lines were jammed. The university was being evacuated, people were being shoved in vans like a can of sardines, and the blades of helicopters deafened the crowd as they hovered above them.

“G—Gavin—I—wait—don’t,” His voice crackled in and out of existence, desperately trying to fight the noise on his end. 

That was all Gavin would hear. A rough hand grabbed his shoulder, throwing him backward toward the current crowd being herded into the vans. In the process, the phone slipped out of his sweaty fingers, clattering to the ground and disappearing into the sea of feet. “My mobile!” He tried to howl, pushing a few people away trying to spot it, but it had vanished.

“Move it son!” A gruff voice commanded him, another harsh hand shoving him backward. “We don’t have all day.”

“But my mobile!” He tried to argue to no effect, the man in camouflage ignored him. Gavin stumbled into the windowless darkness of the back of the van, pressed up against a terrified girl that he recognized from his maths class. Their eyes locked and she grabbed onto his arm, her fingernails digging into his skin. They were all scared out of their minds, so Gavin clasped his hand around hers, trying to fight the desire to lose his lunch.

His phone was gone; Michael lived in a completely different part of the city. Were they even evacuating yet? Would they be shipped off to the same safe zone? Gavin could only pray that the broken phone call wasn’t the last time he heard Michael’s voice.

Fort Pittsburgh was a filthy excuse for a camp. They were shoved in tents with four to five people on the same seven by ten dirt floor. Each refugee was given a sleeping bag, many of them having holes or lice, and expected to be grateful that they had a place to lie their heads. Gavin kept himself busy in those days running errands for the fort’s doctors and nurses, who were working double time with not only the virus, but also the infections that spread like wildfire. And he was always there to assist when the newest group of refugees arrived. 

There was never any sign of Michael.

Militaries from other countries arrived, trying to help rid American soil of the cannibalistic undead. However, the disease spread over waters, infecting the continents one by one. Almost all aid was withdrawn to protect their own land, some had even been left behind, not allowing more traces of the virus into their homeland. 

Fort Pittsburgh fell. The chain-link fence was not enough to keep the zombies out for long. A chaotic evacuation followed as those that could fight were split between fending off the hoards of undead and ushering the civilians into trucks, onto the next fort.

Gavin was one of the first people out. His assistance to the doctors and nurses had paid off, he was considered valuable when they were evacuating the civilians. He escaped before the fences came tumbling down.

Fort Louis was a slight improvement from Fort Pittsburgh. Their walls were stronger, their leaders more capable, and they were building an army to fight the approaching swarm of zombies. Conscription for all capable young men and women, the ones that could fight off the undead. Gavin was shoved into uniform, handed a gun, and taught how to fire it. That was where he met Dan, a young British soldier that had been abandoned when the UK closed off its borders. He was the little taste of home that Gavin had needed. 

There was a year of stability while Gavin was at Fort Louis. He trained, ate, and slept. He was placed on inner security of the Fort, given patrols among the shelters to make sure that the refugees stayed in order. It may be the end of the world, but that didn’t mean that all rules were thrown out the window. Dan, on the other hand, was more valuable out in the field. Gavin would wait each day until night fell and the patrols returned. To his ultimate relief, Dan was among the survivors every night.

Then came their deployment to Fort Austin. It had been almost two years since the virus erupted. Civilization was still struggling; calls came in about forts falling almost every week. Even the brightest optimist knew they were fighting an uphill battle. However, Fort Austin had been standing strong, but after a devastating breach on their North wall, they requested soldiers. Gavin and Dan were both placed on that list.

Fort Austin was not the military-power that Fort Louis was, but it had become a beacon of hope in the field of medicine. The top doctors and scientists from around the country that had survived the outbreak were sent there to find a cure. However, their success had been limited. It was the cleanest fort that Gavin had ever step foot in, most people lived in the gutted out homes rather than shoved together in shacks. 

Gavin liked it there. That was until his first field mission that went wrong from the start. That was how he ended up here.

An eternity seemed to pass until the door to his prison opened again. It wasn’t the tattooed man. This one seemed much friendlier. With a rounded face, lined around the edges of his eyes and mouth, he looked more tired and exasperated than anything else. At his side he carried a bag that he plopped down next to Gavin’s chair. 

“Any chance you’re going to let me out of this damned thing?” Gavin asked with pleading eyes, jerking his shoulders to show the binding on his hands.

“Maybe when I’m done.” The man answered, his voice surprisingly deep. He reached forward and started to unbutton the top of Gavin’s fatigues.

With a squeak, Gavin tried to pull away but this man held on tight to his collar. “Calm down.” He commanded, narrowing his eyes. “I’m checking your burns, don’t you see my first aid kit?” He grumbled, kicking the bag with his foot. “If you want them to get infected, by all means, keep struggling.”

Gavin forced his shoulders to relax, allowing the man to take the jacket off his shoulders, letting the ends rest around his bound wrists. Only the smallest glance down toward his torso made Gavin gag, coughing over his shoulder. His vest had practically been torched away, revealing patches of blistered red skin. 

“Fort Austin doesn’t really invest in flame retardant material does it?” The man chuckled, pulling a pair of scissors from his bag. Gavin flinched as he placed the blade down by the hem of the vest.

In a single swift motion, it was cut away from his body. “I’m Ryan, if it makes it any less awkward.” The man offered his name with a slight smile, pulling out some sort of over-the-counter burn ointment.

“Gavin.” He managed to croak out in response, coughing with the effort. His throat was dry, he wondered if it would be worth it to ask for some water.

Gavin gritted his teeth as his entire chest ached. Ryan, using the ointment sparingly, managed to cover each of the burns on his chest and arms. “You must have been closer to the blast. Your friend managed to get away. If you had remained conscious, I really doubt you would have been able to do the same.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Gavin sighed, flinching as Ryan taped gauze into place over his wounds. He was honestly surprised how calm this guy remained; Gavin could hardly look at his burns without wanting to vomit. Normally, a man like this would be in high demand at the forts. “Are you a doctor?” He branched out, hoping that was a safe question.

Ryan had moved behind him, taping plaster onto his arms. “I was a veterinarian, specializing in large animals. I guess humans aren’t too different.” He bit another piece of medical tape off the wheel, pressed it against Gavin’s skin, and then stepped back as if to survey his handiwork. “However, there are no Edgars which makes me sad.”

“Edgar?”

“My cow. I never wanted to run a huge farm, but having a cow around was nice. Fresh milk.” For a brief moment, the man’s eyes hazed over with memories of better days. It was only for a second, then they snapped back to reality. “Alright, since you’ve been a good patient, I have something to give you.” He opened the bag wide and pulled out a stack of clothes. “I stole these, so keep quiet okay.” He smirked, plopping them down on the floor next to Gavin.

“And how am I supposed to put them on?” Gavin scowled, tugging at his restraints.

Out of his bag, Ryan pulled out a knife. “Like this.” He cut at the ropes that held Gavin’s hands and feet. As Gavin tried to rise, Ryan shoved him back down in the chair. “I wouldn’t recommend escape now. There is a still very pissed Geoff outside. He’s still not too happy that your friend shot Jack. He won’t hesitate to put a bullet through your brain.”

Gavin didn’t try to stand up again until Ryan had collected his things and closed the door behind him. Rising from the chair was the hardest part; his legs were practically jelly underneath him, refusing to hold his weight. However, as it would turn out, sitting on the floor was much better than the chair. His wrists had been rubbed raw by the ropes, an ugly red against his pale skin. For a moment, he resigned to sitting on the floor, trying to rub away the pain, and assess his situation.

There was no way to escape. The only way out was the door, and according to Ryan there was a guy willing to blow his brains out on the other side. At this moment, the only way out of this predicament was to wait until he was turned over to the fort. It wouldn’t be a daring escape, an epic tale to tell his children (if he ever got the chance to have them), and he would have to return with his head hung in shame, but it was better than any other alternative. 

What if the fort refused to trade was a fear that also crept onto him. Would they just kill him then? Probably. He was just another mouth to feed, useless if he didn’t gain them anything. That’s what these freelancer types were like, right?

With a heavy sigh, Gavin scooted around to reach for the pile of clothes. They didn’t look the cleanest, but it was better than his burned out set. He grabbed the shirt off the top of the pile. It was long-sleeved and black with some beer brand printed across the front.

Careful of his bandages, Gavin started to pull the shirt over his head when he froze, taking a deep breath. The smell on the shirt was achingly familiar, and memories rushed forward that Gavin quickly repressed. There was no time for that. It was only a coincidence; he was gone, probably dead. He finished pulling it over his head, slowly lowering the sleeves over his burns. 

He couldn’t have stupid thoughts like that. They were only useful for breaking his heart.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not make any mistakes with the names. I promise.

They met at Mary’s Pub. It was a hole-in-the-wall, shabby and constantly full of drunks, but it had cheap beer that a university student could afford. Gavin had been in the States for about three weeks, and had been quick to make friends with his classmates. It was Friday after their first maths exam of the term, he tagged along with a group eager to get drunk and forget their failing grades. 

Six of them in total squeezed into a single booth, taking turns paying for pitchers that were eagerly downed. One pitcher in, his friends had started to make fun of his accent, “Hey Gavin how’ere the bevs mate?” and then giggling like mad when Gavin frowned. Three pitchers in, Gavin was drunk enough to join the game, his slurred words almost causing his friends to piss themselves laughing.

It was in the middle of the fifth pitcher when Gavin was distracted. The bell on the door rang out above the din of voices as a group of three men walked in. Two were older and gruff-looking, arguing with each other in words that Gavin’s drunken brain couldn’t process. The third however, that trailed behind the first two, hands tucked in pockets, was the one that caught his attention. 

He looked as if he could wrestle a bear, however at the same time with a head of reddish curly hair and a button nose, looked like a teddy bear Gavin wanted to squeeze. “Will you two shut the fuck up?” His voice was the loudest of the three, cutting like a finely sharpened razor through the noise. “We’re here to relax, not fight. Now stop acting like dipshits and sit.” The boy pushed the two older men down onto stools before taking one to the right. 

It took almost twenty minutes for Gavin to muster the courage to stand from the booth. He was quite drunk at this point, and most inhibition had been thrown out the window, but for some reason the teddy bear at the bar scared the living shit out of him. He wanted nothing more than to get his number, but at the same time was afraid of getting bit. Also, he had to wait until the right stool was vacated.

For a moment, his feet fumbled as he left the bar, nearly crashing to the floor when they refused to cooperate. However, he did manage to make it over to the bar, perching on the stool next to the teddy bear. 

“’Ello,” He started out, trying his best not to slur. His accent was apparently hard enough for Americans to understand in the first place. “Mind if I buy ya a drink?”

The teddy bear turned toward him, arching an eyebrow. Gavin couldn’t help but stare at the sprinkle of freckles across his nose. There a brief moment of silence until he broke out into a smile, a single perfect dimple gracing his cheek. “You know what, I’m in a good mood. I’ll say yes. A beer.”

Gavin felt a flush of heat run to his cheeks and he quickly turned to try and hide the blush. He flagged down the bartender, asking for two beers, which were brought over quickly. “Gavin Free,” He said, offering his hand.

The teddy bear took it in a firm grip and smiled. “Michael Jones, nice to meet you.”

The rest of the night was a drunk blur, lost in the mess of the hangover the next morning. They had talked, Michael smiled a lot (showing off that dimple), and at the end of the night, Gavin distinctly remembered getting the young man’s number. However, the next morning, he searched for it while trying to fight a pounding headache to no success.

“Jordan!” Gavin shouted, flinching as his own voice pierced his skull. “Have you seen my trousers from last night?”

His roommate emerged from the bathroom, toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. “Dude, I don’t know. I’m not the one who got plastered.” A foamy smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Maybe getting drunk again will help you remember.”

Gavin was about to retort when the lights flickered above them.

“Goddammit, not again. Wilson still hasn’t called an electrician.” Wilson was their landlord. “Gavin, just call one. We’ll pass the bill onto him later. I’m worried I’m going to get electrocuted in the shower one of these days.”

Giving up on his search, Gavin sighed and flopped onto the couch. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be, and the number was lost among the sea of dirty laundry that was his bedroom floor. Rolling his eyes, Gavin blew a piece of hair out of his face and dug his mobile out of his pocket. He plugged in a google search for electricians in the area, choosing whatever first one came up.

They were going to send someone around three. “Top.” Gavin muttered bitterly as he pressed the end button on the call, squirming until he hung upside down from the couch, the top of his head pressing against the floor. “Where are you going?” Gavin grumbled as he watched Jordan rush around, pulling a shirt over his head. 

“Got a date because I actually keep girls’ numbers.”

“Piss off.”

The buzzer went off just as Gavin managed to headshot a zombie. He was taking his frustration out on the collection of pixels instead of the collection of words that was his homework. Honestly, he was still pissed about losing teddy bear’s number.

“Coming!” He hollered, pausing the game and shoving aside the controller. The buzzer went off again. “For god’s sake, I am coming.” He repeated, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to rid of the bedhead he had done nothing about.

“Thanks for coming on such short notice,” Gavin said as he swung the door open, only to struggle to keep his jaw from dropping. On the other side was Teddy Bear, who seemed equally surprised.

The first person to act was Michael. He laughed, throwing his head back. “What a coincidence. Gavin right?”

“Y—Yeah. You’re the electrician?” Gavin stammered in response, scratching at the back of his neck.

Michael lifted up the toolbox in his hand. “That’s right. Though, you’re probably more worried that someone with the worst hangover is trying to fix your apartment.”

Gavin chuckled. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got one too.”

“Yeah, you were completely smashed.” He said with a tint of amusement.

“Absolutely mullered.” Gavin agreed.

“Alright, how about you show me where the problem is.”

It probably wasn’t something Michael was used to, but Gavin couldn’t help watching him as he worked. Then came the sad moment when he was finished, packing up his tools to leave.

Gavin hovered over him, trying to find the right words. “Can I take you out to lunch sometime?” He managed to squeeze out, hating himself immediately after the words were in the air.

Michael glanced up from his toolbox. “I don’t take bribes.” He smirked, closing it with a firm click. He stood so they were almost eye-to-eye. “ However, if you’re suggesting a date—“

“Well,” Gavin felt a blush creeping across his face. “I wanted to make up for the fact that I lost your number.”

“You’re a fucking moron.” Michael huffed. “You’re lucky you’re cute. Sure, how’s tomorrow for you?”

Gavin woke up with a stiff neck. He had fallen asleep in the corner of his tiny prison, head buried in his knees. Despite Austin never getting cold, this tiny space made of concrete walls had dropped to freezing temperatures. It had to be nighttime, Gavin thought, wrapping his arms across his torso, hugging it tight. When he breathed, he was surprised it wasn’t coming out in a trail of steam.

The warm dream had already faded away, the details escaping his fingers as he tried to latch onto it again. Pain rippled through his chest as the plaster tugged at his skin with every movement. He wanted his pre-virus life back, more than anything. Him and Michael: happy, alive, and safe.

Voices jolted Gavin out of his self-pity party. They filtered through the cracks in the closet door. Curiosity raged through him, chasing away the cold. Forcing his way onto stiff legs, Gavin crouched down next to the door, ear pressed against the slats.

“I think the lads are back.” It was the higher-pitched voice of Geoff, the tattooed guy. “Ryan, you get to break the news.”

“What? Why me? I don’t want to torn to pieces by Jay.” Ryan countered back.

“How about I just tell it. I’m the one I got shot.” A voice, almost matching Ryan’s, cut in. It must be Jack, the guy Dan shot. There was an uneven thump as it sounded like Jack got to his feet.

“Get back down. You shouldn’t be putting any weight on that.” Ryan shot back, and there were the sounds of a short scuffle that ended with a grunt. “Now stay down until I give you permission.”

“Yes King Ryan.”

Then the room became a flurry of activity, and all Gavin could hear was a garbled mess of voices and things being dropped on the floor. He wasn’t able to make out a single word until there was a shrill whistle that brought the room to dead silence. 

“Fina-fucking-lly.” Geoff sighed loudly, stomping his foot. “Yes, Jack was shot by a soldier. Yes, we have the other one locked in our closet. No, Jay you cannot skin him alive. I know your vendetta against Fort Austin, but that will not solve anything.”

“And what is keeping him alive solving then?” A new voice, younger than the rest, joined in. 

“Well Ray, we’re going to trade him for amnesty. Fort Austin has been wiping out the surrounding fringe groups and we’re high on their list. And if this British son of a bitch isn’t worth amnesty, maybe we can at least buy enough time to get the fuck out before they gun us down.”

“The kid’s not a threat,” Ryan spoke up this time. “He’s hardly big enough to even be considered a soldier, probably just some unlucky guy that got drafted. We have to keep him here until the roads clear up, so until then no one touches him unless they want a stern talking to.”

At least they had his back, Gavin thought bitterly. He was nothing more than a poker chip in their game.

There was a loud thump and then someone stomped out of the room in the opposite direction from the closet. Then there was a loud slam as a door was thrown closed.

“Well, that didn’t surprise me in the slightest.” Gavin heard Geoff exhale loudly. “Let’s see if our soldier buddy wants to come out and play.”

As footsteps drew near the door, Gavin stumbled to his feet, ignoring how his legs had gone numb from crouching so long. The door swung open to reveal Geoff, who sized up his new clothes and bandages. “Ryan stole some of Jay’s clothes for you?” He muttered, half to himself. “He’ll definitely pay for that later.”

Then, to Gavin’s surprise, Geoff stood aside, letting him out.

The room beyond was small. In pre-virus times, it was probably a waiting room for some corporation. The only way out that was immediately apparent was the large wooden door near the front of the room. Attached to the side was a rather paranoid amount of locks. It achingly reminded him of Jersey.

The furniture in the room was sparse. There was a threadbare couch where a man laid, his leg raised on pillows. He was the solid-looking type, a fiery red beard and mane of hair almost obscured his face. Ryan crouched beside him, lifting away some bloodied bandages.

To avoid gagging, Gavin turned his head. That was when he came face to face with one of the ‘lads’. He was roughly Gavin’s age with a round face and dark, thick-rimmed glasses. He was dressed in a weird mixture of civilian clothes, body armor, and makeshift gauntlets of duct tape. To say the least, he appeared haggard. “You’re the last thing I wanted to see when I get back from scavenging.” He grumbled, pointing a finger right in Gavin’s face. 

“Ray’s typically in a better mood than this.” Jack commented from across the room, his words ending with a welp as Ryan pulled off the last of the bandages revealing a ragged stitching job. 

“Well, typically I wouldn’t have spent the last three hours running from a horde of zombies. Jay may be ‘immune’ but I sure ain’t. I miss the days when my motto could be YOLO without actually fearing for my life.” Ray shot back, flopping down into a torn office chair.

“At least you weren’t blown up.” Gavin said and coughed, his throat still painfully dry.

“Hey, we did that to save your asses!” Jack protested from the couch.

“And someone get him some water before he dies of dehydration.” Ryan cut in with a frown. “He won’t be much use to us dead.”

Ray grumbled something under his breath before turning into another room, closing the door quickly behind him. 

“You know, with civilization ending, most of us have forgotten our manners.” Geoff said, sitting on the arm of the couch next to Jack’s head. “I do admit though that it’s hard to be friendly when your friend shot ours.”

“Well, now what do you want me to do?” Gavin asked hoarsely, ignoring the tears that pricked in the corner of his eyes. He was tired, in pain, and just wanted to be back at Fort Austin in the barracks. At least there he was unharmed, safe, and had Dan. 

“I guess hang out until we have better use for you.” Geoff shrugged as Ray returned in the room, a water bottle in hand.

“Don’t waste it.” He growled, shoving it into Gavin’s hands.

It was sour and nothing like the well water back in Austin, but it was at least something. Without the scratch in his throat, the world seemed slightly clearer than before. He heard a door slam open behind him.

“Hey Ray, I can’t get this fucking stuff off.”

Gavin paused with the water bottle near his mouth. His heart had stopped beating, the world froze around him, and it took all self-control not to let the bottle go slipping from between his fingers. The voice hadn’t changed in the slightest, it was the same as when he last heard it through the broken call. 

No, he was dead. He had to be dead. There was no way he was alive and behind him right at this moment.

“You have serious duct tape skills dude.”

Again.

Gavin whirled around, his gasp drowned out by the loud ripping noise as duct tape was torn away from the phantom’s arms. It was skinnier than Michael; hardship had worn away at his rounded cheeks. Freckles, spawned by copious amounts of sun, speckled his nose in excess that almost created a bridge across his face. Lastly, a thick pink scar, starting at his left ear, arched across his face disappearing into his hairline.

Yet, it was still the teddy bear he had fallen in love with.

“Michael?” His voice only came out as a whisper as he took a step forward, his eyes wider than dinner plates. For a moment seemed to notice him. “Michael?” He tried, just a little louder, but it came out as nothing more than a squeak.

That was when the devastatingly familiar brown gaze settled on him. Gavin waited for warmth to wash away the spite that filled the look, but it didn’t. For what felt like an eternity, Michael stared at him with cold mistrust. “What the fuck do you want?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this at an ungodly time because I didn't want to sleep until I finished. Now I'll go fail an English exam like the English major I am.

The thin strip of foam between him and floor only accentuated the cold of the concrete floor below rather than absorbing his body heat. At least the Hunters were kind enough to give him that and the ragged blanket around his shoulders after the trouble they had gone through because of him. Sadly, they couldn’t do anything about the constant moans that echoed behind the brick walls.

In Fort Austin, the perimeter was kept clear of the undead to keep the air empty of the calls of the zombies. It gave everyone a peace of mind that couldn’t be achieved on the outside. 

As night had settled in, the room had been emptied except for Gavin and the person on guard. For now, it was Ryan. He sat in a creaking wooden chair, watching through the slits in the wooden planks that barricaded the front window, a rifle resting in his lap. He was second on watch, having replaced Geoff almost an hour ago. Gavin had pretended to be asleep because there was no way in hell that he could anyway.

A shiver rippled through Gavin as a breeze slipped between the cracks. Even for December, Austin was quite humid during the day, but at night the temperature plummeted. 

“You can have my blanket if you want.”

Gavin stiffened in surprise, rolling over on the thin pad to face Ryan. The older man was watching him; the scarce moonlight that filtered through the slits deepened his wrinkles, making him look tired.

“However, it comes at a price. You have to answer some questions.”

Gavin stood from the pad, pulling the ratty blanket tighter as he walked over to Ryan on stiff joints. “Just questions?” He repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Yup. Wouldn’t lie to you.” Ryan squirmed in the chair, untangling himself from his blanket before holding it out to Gavin.

In the years since the end began, Gavin had learned to be selfish. He took the blanket with a grateful look, throwing it over the thin one, sighing at the newfound warmth. Sliding down the wall, Gavin leaned against the leg of the chair, and watched as Ryan returned his gaze to the world outside.

“The undead still crawling?” Gavin asked, already knowing the answer.

“The bastards don’t sleep. What do you think?” Ryan didn’t glance at him, but he smirked. “Now, for those questions. Well, it’s more of a plea for explanation.” Ryan started to fiddle with the rifle in his lap until he realized that no matter which button he messed with, only bad would come of it, and stopped. “I know the others are having a hard time believing you, but I guess I’m not.”

A wave of dread crashed over Gavin, and he hunched down further into the blankets. Of course Ryan wanted an explanation about earlier, Gavin needed one as well. Not even he understood what had happened.

“What the fuck do you want?”

Gavin froze in his tracks, and only realized that his hand was outstretched toward Michael when he spotted it from the corner of his eye. It was physically painful to lower it. “Michael?” The name tumbled from his mouth, stinging his lips like ice water. 

The hum of the room fell to deathly silence.

The frozen mistrust in Michael’s eyes burned away in a flash of intense suspicion. He ripped his still half-taped arm away from Ray’s fingers, holding it in front of his chest as if Gavin was a zombie about to strike. “Sorry pal, I think you have the wrong person.”

No he didn’t, a voice in the back of Gavin’s mind pleaded. This was Michael. He had the same curly hair, the freckles, the same voice. It was tired, a little broken, but no one had escaped the apocalypse unscathed. And in that moment, Gavin realized how much he needed it to be true. Familiarity had become foreign in the end times, and he wanted it, no needed it, like an addict needed cocaine. He wanted the familiarity of times that had been ripped away from him.

“No, I don’t.” His voice cracked, and he found his feet unglued from the floor. However, with every step he took, Michael took two back. “Michael Vincent Jones. Your birthday is July 24, 1987, you’re from New Jersey.” Gavin felt his throat closing up, but he kept going. “You’re an electrician, but you would rather just play video games for a living. You—You only have one dimple when you smile.”

It was apparently Michael’s turn to be frozen because suddenly, Gavin found his hand on the other’s shoulder. He could feel the heat underneath Michael’s shirt, and it took all self-control not to pull him in closer. He wanted nothing more in the world. “I don’t have the wrong person.” Gavin tried to smile, a crooked grin that only tugged at half of his face because the other half was fighting the desire to cry.

There was a sharp crack of bone on bone. Pain blossomed across Gavin’s face, twisting across his face in a spider web of agony. He stumbled backward, losing his balance until he was firmly sitting on the ground. Darkness swirled around his left eye, and he tasted iron. 

An explosion of movement happened all at once, surrounding Gavin in a confusing whirlwind. He placed a hand underneath his nose, and it came away red and wet. Michael punched him? His head hurt. Why did Michael punch him? Michael would never hurt anyone.

There was shouting. Ray held Michael tight around the waist, dragging him backward as the man screamed words that Gavin didn’t want to register. They disappeared into the next room.

Arms grabbed at Gavin’s wrists, hauling him to his feet. Geoff was yelling in his ear, probably demanding answers that he couldn’t dream of giving. 

Being shoved in the closet again even sounded like a good idea to Gavin. The door locked in place as Gavin tried to put together the pieces. Michael, the Michael he knew, was right. He was shit at puzzles. 

His nose eventually stopped bleeding. His eye swelled to a slit, half-blinding him. The temperature in the room went downhill, chilling Gavin to the bone. He was miserable, bewildered, and distraught. Why did Michael punch him? That man had been Michael, yet somehow at the same time he wasn’t. The look of mistrust was branded into Gavin’s eyelids, and that only made him want to cry.

However, when they didn’t come, Gavin decided it was because he had cried over Michael enough.

It was about an hour before the door clicked open again, and Ryan stood there with a sympathetic look. “Everything’s calmed down. Want to come out?” He asked like Gavin was a small child hiding from the thunder.

The only people left in the room were the three older gentlemen. As Gavin followed Ryan in, Geoff was supporting Jack as the man clambered onto his good leg. Gavin flinched at the sight of the bandages and glanced meekly at Jack, who only smiled. “I would’ve done the same for my friends.” He shrugged. “It was worth it, you gave up a show today.”

There was a dull thud as Geoff reached around his head to smack Jack’s. “Seriously dude? Not cool.”

Jack only chuckled, and together they limped out of the room.

“We all sleep back there where it’s warmer, but I don’t recommend being in the same room as Jay.” Ryan fell back onto the couch where Jack had been.

“Jay?” Gavin was momentarily confused until he realized Ryan meant Michael. “Why do you call him that?” He asked after a moment of silence.

Ryan shrugged. “We don’t really have anything else to call him until you showed up.” He leaned forward on his knees, rubbing his hands through his hair. “All we had to go off of was a hospital wristband that said M. Jones. Jones is a dumb nickname, so we ended up calling him Jay.”

Gavin wanted to know more, but Geoff stomped back in the room. “Jack needs to learn when to make a joke.”

Ryan jumped to his feet. “He’s just trying to make the best of a bad situation.”

Geoff snorted, rolling his eyes. “Whatever. Get to sleep Haywood, you’re on guard duty next.”

There was a brief moment where Gavin stood alone. Ryan had disappeared into one room, and Geoff walked into another. Then there was a screech of wood against wood, and Geoff reappeared dragging a chair behind him. Underneath his arm was the thinnest mat of foam Gavin had ever seen along with a ratty blanket. He tossed those on the ground.

“Those are for you.” He said gruffly, swinging the chair around to face the only window that allowed a view of the outside world. “Try to get some sleep.”

And that led Gavin to this heart to heart with a man he met only hours prior. “When you said you only had a medical band to name him, what did you mean? That might help me answer whatever you want to know.”

Ryan sighed, placing his arms behind his head. “We found him surviving out on his own. The zombies had no interest in him, he could walk through a crowd and they would part for him like the Red Sea. All he had with him was a dirty pair of scrubs, the bracelet, that nasty scar, and nothing left in his brain. He only knew where he had come from and what information was on the band.”

“No memories? Nothing?” The pit that had been forming in Gavin’s stomach opened into a gaping chasm, a bottomless pit. He buried his face in his hands, flinching as he pressed against his sore nose and the black eye that had started to form.

He could practically feel Ryan’s head shaking and the sympathetic look.

Gavin let out a heavy sigh, falling back against the wall, letting the back of his head hit with a loud tap. “I guess that explains some things.”

“So you knew him pre-virus? Were you close?”

A cold chuckle escaped Gavin’s mouth like smoke. “You could say that.”

Ryan gave a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry.”

Gavin shrugged. “He’s alive, that’s top.” He rubbed at his chin, feeling the beginnings of scruff starting to form. Michael always hated his scruff. It made kissing too scratchy. Also, he could never grow any semblance of a beard, so Gavin always thought he was jealous.

“Also, you’re lucky he only punched you.”

The probable image of his face plus the swollen nose and black eye made Gavin wonder what could have been worse.

“He wanted to skin you. Jay’s had a vendetta against Fort Austin, he blames them for happened to him, whatever that was.” 

Not only did Michael not recognize him, but also he wanted him dead. The chasm became an abyss, and somehow Gavin still smiled. At least Michael was alive, his boy, his teddy bear, was alive and kicking. Maybe there was still a chance, Gavin tried to tell himself, not everything was lost.

Until they take you back to Fort Austin, his brain decided to remind him. He was still a poker chip, he was going to be traded, and that meant losing Michael. “And if this British son of a bitch isn’t worth amnesty, maybe we can at least buy enough time to get the fuck out before they gun us down.” Geoff’s voice rang in his ears. They would either have to leave or get killed. 

“When did you last see Jay—Michael?” Ryan’s voice sliced through Gavin’s thoughts, dragging him back to the present. Gavin sighed, looking down at his hands. He hadn’t really liked to think about the last time, since remembering it as their final encounter seemed so finite, like that was it. No more. At least now he could tell it knowing that Michael lived after the story ended.


	5. Chapter 5

“Come on you knob, it’s only two weeks before Christmas. Let’s go to the shops!” Gavin chirped into the phone that was trapped between his ear and his shoulder. His hands were busy with a controller to a game he wasn’t really paying attention to. He had died roughly three minutes ago, but his fingers kept pressing at the buttons.

“It’s not even noon. I’m still asleep.” Michael groaned on the other end, and there was a rustle of sheets as he turned over.

“You’re not asleep.” Gavin smirked. “How would you be talking to me?”

“I’m sleep talking.” Michael deadpanned before there was an abrupt click and the line died.

It was hardly a half an hour until the buzzer rang. “Let me in you prick before my balls freeze off!” Michael’s voice crackled on the other end. Gavin smiled, tying the green scarf around his neck. The teddy bear never failed him. The last thing he pulled out was a surgeon’s mask from a box in the cabinet. A weird virus had been going around, people were getting sick left and right. So far, him and Michael had been all right, but the news was warning people not to take chances.

Michael was of course not wearing one when Gavin opened the door. “You minge, get inside and put this on.” He grumbled, grabbing an extra out.

The man rolled his eyes, pulling his brown coat around tighter. “I’m healthy as a horse. I don’t need one.”

“Humor me.” Gavin shot back.

“That’s all I ever do.” Michael said, but not without a smirk. He took the mask from Gavin’s hand, slipping it over his perfect face, hiding the single dimple from sight. 

The streets were relatively empty; Michael drove with almost no road rage, pulling into the parking lot at the mall. They got a spot almost immediately outside the doors, and they held gloved hands as their footsteps echoed on the tiled floor. The people that rushed along the dirty rows of shops kept their heads down, and the typical excited buzz of the mall was lost in a suffocating silence.

Gavin tried to not let it bog him down. “Oh Michael, look!” He squealed, running over to a window, pointing at the poster of some new shooter game. Gavin didn’t recognize the name, student loans tended to keep him from looking at the newest addition to Call of Duty, but it at least broke the silence.

Michael stood beside him, nodding his head. “Yeah, it’ll be fun.” He laced his arm into the crook of Gavin’s, pulling them closer together. It felt as if the mall had turned off its heat.

Gavin glanced down at Michael, suppressing a flinch when he noticed the flash of darkness across his features. “What do you want for our first Christmas?” He asked, for probably the hundredth time, in a desperate attempt to clear away the heavy tension.

“How about you stay in New Jersey?” It was the same answer Michael had given him a hundred times.

“You know I can’t.” Gavin whined, pulling them away from the shop window. “I’ll be back in the summer or better yet, you can come visit the UK. It’s quite lovely.” This argument had been weighing heavily between them the last few weeks. It was almost time for Gavin to head back home and Michael had been trying to get him to stay.

In all honesty, Gavin wanted to, more than anything. However, he didn’t have the resources to pull that off quite yet. That was a surprise Gavin had for Michael when the summer months rolled around. He had already started on the paperwork; it was only going to take longer than he had anticipated. Too long for it to be a Christmas present. The plan was to spend a week or two in the UK, and when Michael was leaving, Gavin would get on the plane with him. Surprise!

“How about something I can get you?” Gavin prompted.

Michael shrugged. “I need a new hat. I lost my old one.”

“Just a hat?” The brit laughed, ruffling the exposed curls on Michael’s head. “I can manage that.”

A smile finally passed across Michael’s face as they walked into a clothes shop. That was when their arms were separated as his boy disappeared down a series of racks, rustling through hangars of jumpers.

Gavin headed straight for a collection of hats on display. Shifting through the bin, one in particular caught his eye. It was a thick, knit cap as Michael preferred but what made Gavin smile was the pair of bear ears that stuck out of the top. 

A scream pierced through Gavin like a hot dagger, exploding from the back of the shop. Michael’s name was the first sound of Gavin’s mouth as he broke into a sprint, still clutching the bear hat. Running down the rows, following the continued screaming, he skidded to a stop in front of a row that proudly displayed a collection of glass spheres.

Blood smeared the tiled ground, one figure stood above another. The first figure, rigid and pale, hung with its jaws wide open. It was a young man, but as his eyes flickered toward Gavin, they were glossed over and milky white. His mouth was stained bright red and a sliver of flesh hung from his lip.

The women on the ground lied still, the screaming had stopped, a chunk of skin missing from her cheek.

Gavin found himself paralyzed.

The bloodied mouth took a lurching step toward him, arms outstretched when someone grabbed Gavin from behind, tearing his feet from their glued position. Michael dragged him behind like a rag doll out of the store and back out into the frozen air. 

They were in the car before Gavin could say a word.

“What the fuck was that? Jesus fucking christ.” Michael buried his face into his hands. “Please tell me what I just saw wasn’t real?”

Gavin couldn’t, so not a word was exchanged as Michael put the car into drive.

When they were back in Gavin’s apartment, he kicked the heat into overdrive. However, until it kicked in, they collapsed on the couch with their coats still on. Michael leaned against his shoulder, his face still pale. Gavin reached for the clicker, but one look from Michael made him put it down. They didn’t need the news to know what had just happened.

They sat in silence until the heat was too much to bear. Michael pulled away, not bothering to tug away at his coat. Instead, he buttoned the top and untwisted the shoulders so it settled correctly.

“You’re not leaving, are you?” Gavin’s voice shook as he had only just begun to recover. There had been blood everywhere. He couldn’t help but think what he had done if that had been Michael on the floor. He probably would’ve let the hellish creature kill him too. 

“I’m going to make a few calls, check on my parents.” Michael was already heading for the door, messing with his mobile. “I’ll be back tomorrow, promise.”

Gavin leapt up to block the door. “You’re not leaving yet.” He protested, but was quickly shut up as their lips met. It was brief, but chased away the chill in his bones with a single brush.

“I will be back you prick.” Michael accentuated each word and ended them with a smirk. Then he was gone through the door, leaving Gavin standing there in the frozen breeze that was trapped in the building as Michael left.

Gavin sighed heavily, resolving to call Michael in an hour. He turned to close the door, sticking his hands into his coat pocket, and feeling something that shouldn’t have been there. When he pulled his hand out, trapped between his fingers was the hat from the store with the bear ears. He must have accidentally stolen it when Michael dragged him away.

Normally, he would have felt guilty for not paying, however the store probably had bigger problems on its hands now.

Gavin’s phone buzzed in his pocket and pulled it out. ‘TEXT FROM: MICOOL <3’

“I will be back tomorrow, don’t miss me too much. (:”

Michael never broke promises. It broke Gavin’s heart that this was the promise that ended it.

Evacuations started at dawn the next day. The last time Gavin heard his voice was on that broken phone call.

Gavin woke up in a haze on the thin mattress. His chest stung fiercely as he had slept on his stomach, pressing the plaster into his burns. With a groan, he rolled over to expose his aching skin toward the cool air, closing his eyes.

“Can’t fool me, you’re awake.” There was a jab in his side, causing him to yelp.

“Don’t torture him Ray!” Ryan’s voice protested, but it was from across the room.

“How come we have to get up at the crack of dawn, but the prisoner gets to sleep in? That’s bullshit.” Ray continued, and Gavin cracked open an eye to glance up at him. 

“He is covered in second degree burns, of course he does. It doesn’t help that you’re kick him.”

Gavin pulled slowly into a sitting position, flinching at the pain that rippled through his torso. Ray backed off considerably, giving him room to breathe. Honestly, the kid didn’t look like he belonged in the middle of the zombie apocalypse. Glasses perched precariously on the edge of his nose, threatening to be bumped off by a stray arm. He wore a dirty t-shirt depicting a cartoonish tuxedo with a red rose in the breast pocket.

The part of him that appeared zombie ready was a pair of thick black pants taped at the calf with silver duct tape. Gavin noticed, as it was at eye level, that the roll hung from his ankle. He must have been working on it when he came over to harass him.

“He’d have a lot worse if I had been there.” A voice muttered from behind Gavin, and he whirled around so fast that some of the medical tape ripped away from his skin. Michael walked out of the other room, which at this point Gavin had gathered was some kind of kitchen, his mouth filled with unappetizing-looking slop. Nothing had changed in his glare, burning with suspicion. “No soldier deserves quartering, didn’t we fight the Revolution for that shit?”

Ray snorted. “How’dja remember that?”

“Ever heard of a book? This place is full of them.”

“Michael,” Gavin tried the name again, attempting to climb to his feet. He was nearly knocked over by the spark of rage behind Michael’s eyes.

“Stop calling me that.” He snarled, but there was an uncertain shake to his voice, like something was trying to fight its way to the surface. He wanted to remember, Gavin tried to tell himself.

“But that is your name,” He tried to insist.

“Your bracelet did read M. Jones.” Ryan cut in, gripping Gavin’s shoulder. “It could be Michael for all you know.”

Michael opened his mouth once, twice, and then a third time before closing it and stalking off.

“Maybe it’s Melanie, that’s a cute name!” Ray shouted at his retreating back, receiving a smack from Ryan on the head. 

“He’ll come around, I think.” Ryan didn’t sound too certain, but it did lift Gavin’s broken spirits slightly.

Ray turned, arching an eyebrow. “You’re believing him now? Can I remind you that he’s our prisoner and his friend shot Jack?”

Ryan shrugged. “Call it intuition.” He let his hand slide off Gavin’s shoulder. “We’ve got work to do Ray, get a move on.”

Ray mumbled something under his breath before falling back onto the couch, strapping on the last of the duct tape to his pants.

The compound was a blur of motion from then on. Gavin wasn’t allowed to partake in it, Ryan forced him onto the couch with a stack of paperbacks retrieved from one of the upper floors, and told him to stay. 

Geoff, who had been away when Gavin woke up, returned soon after, a smudge of blood across his cheek and a deep frown. “The horde is still clogging Main Street, there’s no clear path to Fort Austin.” His cold blue gaze fell on Gavin. “You get to stay a while longer.” And that was it, he disappeared into their shared bedroom.

It was soon after that Gavin saw Michael for the only other time that morning. He saw the curly hair poking just above Ray’s head, but they both slipped through the safe door before Gavin could say a word. 

And the door was hardly open for a second; still Gavin heard the collection of moans outside. That was when his mind slipped to Dan. He had been caught in the explosion just as he had; yet he managed to stumble away.

Geoff said the streets were full of the shamblers, and Gavin had to wonder if he had survived at all. The longing pain for Michael was temporarily replaced with sheer dread at the idea of Dan lost to the undead. Gavin buried his head between his knees, taking a shuddering breath. In the last twenty-four hours he had forgotten about his buddy, the only constant in his life the last two years.

Dan had been Michael’s replacement. Gavin could acknowledge that, even if he didn’t want to. How easy it was to forget when one glimmer of familiarity outshone everything else. 

They didn’t bother to lock him up in the closet. Gavin was certain it was because they knew he wouldn’t survive ten minutes outside. They knew that Gavin knew it too. 

Ryan replaced Gavin’s bandages before heading out with Geoff, huge duffel bags slung over their shoulders and keys in Geoff’s hands. When they were outside, Gavin could hear the roar of a motorcycle engine.

The base was silent after that. The only sound was the occasional muffled shuffling and groans from the other room as Jack, their wounded man, attempted to move about. That was when Gavin allowed himself to flop on the couch, closing his eyes. His torso burned, his heart ached, and all he wanted as some alcohol and get absolutely mullered. Too bad there wasn’t a chance of that.

Alcohol had become a luxury. Zombies did that to the world.

At some point, Gavin had fallen asleep. When he opened his eyes, sticky at first with sleep, all he saw was a set of gentle curls. He reached out, trying to catch a lock through the warm fuzziness of sleep. Then they were gone, out of his reach like a wisp of smoke.

“Michael?” The name had started to feel bitter on his tongue. Gavin blinked away the last of the bleariness, straightening up against the arm of the couch. Sure enough, the man stood before him. A knife was caught in his hand, poised to lash out. “Are you going to kill me?” They were words that Gavin never thought would come out of his mouth. At least, not to Michael.

There was a brief moment when Gavin braced for the worst. Then the knife disappeared with a thunk as the blade sunk into the wooden side table. “No.” Was Michael’s curt response, when suddenly his hands brushed against Gavin’s feet, shooing them out of the way. Gavin scrambled to make room.

Michael flopped down, leaving flecks of dirt and black blood on the already worn and stained fabric.

“W—Where’s Ray?” Gavin mumbled, surprised to have Michael this close after the hostility this morning.

“We caught up with Geoff and Ryan. They sent me on ahead to check on you and Jack.” Michael pinched the bridge of his nose, narrowing his eyes as he stared ahead.

“You wear glasses.” Gavin suddenly found the need to inform him.

Michael glanced at him from the corner of his eyes, raising an eyebrow. “That figures. My eyesight is shit. What did I do?”

Gavin shrugged. “You were already wearing them when we met. I haven’t the faintest.” There was a moment of silence before the realization washed over Gavin. “Are you believing me?” There was a flutter of hope in his chest, a butterfly trying to fight its way out of his stomach.

“No.” Michael shot back defensively, but he bit his lip. “Just taking everything into consideration.”

A smile tugged at Gavin’s mouth. It was a small victory, but it was enough for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the abrupt end. The chapter was starting to get long and it is getting late and I really wanted to post this so yeah. It's midnight and I'm tired, so apologies for any mistakes.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that I haven't updated in forever! My writing free time has been limited and when I had it, it was dedicated to other projects. So, enjoy!

Gavin and Dan had been on route to Fort Austin when the breach happened. No one among the convoy had any clue what had happened until they pulled up to the massive gates and were led through the bloodied streets. Red stains were still being scrubbed from the ground, huge pyres burned to destroy the dead and undead, and everyone watched wearily as the newest batch of soldiers arrived just in time. 

“Bloody hell,” Dan whistled, watching out of the plastic windows on their jeep. “The walkers did a serious number here, didn’t they Gav?” He sighed, clutching his gun closer to his chest. 

Gavin stared down at his hands, unwilling to glance at the destruction around him. The image his mind devised was enough, he didn’t need to see the real thing.

When they arrived at the barracks, they got the full story. The South gates mostly used for medical transport and salvaging, had been opened without authorization. The guards had been found gunned down and the noise had been enough to attract a horde of undead right to their doorstep.

The soldiers were able to close the gates, but not before a wave of undead found their way inside and made meals out of the nearest civilians. 

“It will take forever to recover.” One solider, nursing a bruised and battered shoulder from the kickback of his gun, said as he stared emptily ahead. 

That night, the fresh soldiers were given the night watch. The massive walls that encased Fort Austin were under twenty-four watch, and Dan managed to wiggle on the same shift as Gavin. They sat together on the East wall, staring out into the remnants of Austin, the true city of Austin. 

“I wonder what kind of place it was pre-virus.” Dan said, swinging his legs over the edge. 

Gavin moved the beam of his torch lazily across the ground three stories beneath them. A small gaggle of zombies watched them hungrily, but didn’t stray too close to the wall. They had seen enough of their comrades get blown to pieces by mines to understand. Intelligence wasn’t their strong suit, but there were enough zombie chunks to discourage them.

“Dunno,” Gavin said finally, clicking his torch off, leaving them in darkness. “Michael always wanted to visit it, we never got the chance.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Gavin noticed Dan’s eyebrows shoot up. “You never mention Michael.”

Dan knew about Michael, Gavin mentioned him when they first met and then never again. There wasn’t a need. The past was painful and Gavin rarely wanted to dig it up. The dead should stay underground. However, right now, Gavin felt like Michael should be there, even if it was only in thought.

Gavin shrugged, scooting a little closer to his friend. “Can you believe it’s been two years?” He rubbed his face, a little surprised to feel stubble forming on his cheeks.

Dan leaned back on his hands. “Feels like a lifetime.” 

“And ten seconds at the same time.” Gavin added, his restless fingers finding a pebble on the stony wall. Without hesitation, he whipped it at the nearest undead but it promptly fell short. 

There was silence; neither of them was sure how long. They both just swung their legs, staring out into the darkness of the abandoned city, and allowed themselves to get lost in their thoughts.

It was Dan that interrupted Gavin’s own reminiscing. “What kind of sick fuck opens the gates?” He said, lacing his fingers together and placing his chin on them. “He had to know the undead would get in and start killing. Who let’s that on their conscious?”

Gavin hadn’t been too bothered about the breach except for the fact that if it happened again, he would be in the middle of it. Dan on the hand couldn’t seem to shake it off.

“They must have had a pretty damn good reason.” Was all Gavin could manage, also at a lost as to why anyone would sacrifice everyone’s safety.

“There are children here for christ’s sake.” Dan said through gritted teeth. “If I ever meet the person who did this, I’m going to put a bullet through his brain.”

Gavin wanted to say more, to calm Dan down, but at the same time their watches gave a sharp chirp. 

“Shift’s over.” Dan grumbled, climbing to his feet. He offered a hand to Gavin. “Let’s get some shuteye before tomorrow morning, yeah?”

Gavin sighed, taking Dan’s hand. “Yeah.” The best he could muster was a pat on Dan’s shoulder as he pasted toward the stairs. “We’ll get through this.” He said more to himself than his friend. They had to, the world had to pull out of this one. Gavin didn’t know what he would do if it didn’t.

“The main road is starting to clear out.” Geoff shoved the heavily reinforced door back into place behind him, cutting off the moans of the street. “You’re going home soon.”

Gavin glanced up from the book that was in his lap. His legs were entangled with Jack’s, as they tried to share the couch and stretch out their knees at the same time. In the last few days, Jack had started to limp around on his leg, the bullet wound closing up nicely according to Ryan.

Honestly, Gavin hasn’t minded his imprisonment. It was relaxing, no sentry duty, not carrying around heavy guns, he hadn’t seen a single walker except through the bars that covered the windows. 

Maybe that was why a frozen shock ran down his spine at the thought of leaving. Maybe it was because Michael finally smiled at him.

It had been earlier that day, in the morning. They sat around eating plain oatmeal for breakfast, not among Gavin’s favorite but better than the synthetic stuff they got back at Fort Austin. 

Everyone was talking at once, shouting across the table, and just enjoying the day before they had to wander out into the undead-plagued outdoors. Jack was next to Gavin.

“What is the dumbest question you can think of?” Jack asked, raising an eyebrow. They had been suggesting challenges for the last few days and being general asses to each other. When they were the two stuck in the base all day, it allowed time for such things.

“What if your legs didn’t know they were legs?” Gavin sputtered out and as if on cue, the room fell silent.

“What if your legs didn’t know they were legs?!” Ray repeated incredulously. “Wow, you are dumber than I thought.”

There was silent for a solid ten seconds until the most golden sound rushed over Gavin. It was something he hadn’t heard in a long time. It was Michael laughing, this insane child-like laughter that was only dragged out of him kicking and screaming. “That is the fucking stupidest thing I have ever heard.”

He banged a fist on the table, trying to breathe through his laughter, his face turning red with the effort. It wasn’t long until everyone joined in. Everyone except Gavin. He couldn’t stop staring at Michael, the smile he missed, the single dimple that poked out of his cheek. 

He wanted to watch him forever, for that smile to shine permanently. It had been two years since he had seen such a smile, and it was a cold flash of reality when it disappeared. 

Michael brought back his stone-cold face, pointing his spoon in Gavin’s direction. “You’re a fucking moron, you know that right?”

Gavin struggled to keep his own smile. “Of course I do. You used to remind me every day.”

The mention of his past life, no their past life, sent Michael jumping to his feet and out of the room before Gavin could say another word. Just a few days ago, Michael had seemed open to the idea that Gavin was the key to his history. However, that day, Michael had chosen to close up again.

Maybe it was because they all knew that sooner or later, Gavin was going to be gone. He was a lost puppy that they couldn’t afford to get attached to.

“Aww, come on can’t he stay just a little longer?” Jack called affectionately from across the couch. He had closed his own book and swung his feet onto the ground with a flinch. 

Geoff shook his head, already ripping at the tape that covered his forearms. “Sorry, but he has to go, as much as we like having the idiot around.”

“They really are going to kill you, aren’t they?” Gavin fought the lump in his throat, thinking about when he first arrived in this little gang. Fort Austin had been gunning for the surrounding fringe groups, picking them off one by one. The Hunters were the last ones left and Fort Austin was hot on their tail.

“If we return you, we might get a chance at survival.” Geoff said somberly, the cheer gone from his eyes.

“Or they might just hunt us down anyway.” Ryan’s voice surprised them all, none of them had heard him walk in. “We shouldn’t just throw him back to the dogs for a false hope.”

“It is worth a shot!” Geoff’s voice cracked, but Gavin could tell he was conflicted. “Also he’s a soldier, he doesn’t belong here. You probably can’t wait to get back, can’t you?” Geoff whirled around to face him.

Gavin sunk as deep as he could into the couch. Part of him wanted to go back, it was safe in Fort Austin, no threat of undead, regular meals, a real bed, and there was Dan.

However, to get all of that back, it meant losing Michael. 

“Don’t I get a say in this?” Gavin stood on stiff legs, halfway between Geoff and Ryan.

“No.” Geoff snarled, for moment appearing fierce with barred teeth and flaming eyes, but it quickly evaporated into exhaustion. “Why, do you really want to stay?”

“He wants to stay because of me.”

“Michael,” Geoff leaned to see around Ryan to where Michael stood with his hands in his pockets. None of them had seen him walk in. 

“Maybe I can make his decision easier.” Michael came closer, and for a moment, Gavin thought this was going to be the moment. Michael was going to tell him to stay, they would be together again, and everything would be alright. Of course, his brain reminded him that was never going to happen. “You’re getting a free fucking ticket home, take it.”

Gavin’s heart sank.

“If it were up to me, I would have skinned you.”

“Just a few days ago you were considering every possibility.” Gavin was grasping at straws that were quickly disintegrating. “What happened to that, you prick?”

Michael narrowed his eyes. “Things change.” He whirled around on his feet and disappeared from the room without another word. 

Gavin wanted to cry. Never in his life had he wanted to cry more. This was the rug being pulled out from underneath his feet, the last bit of his life pre-virus was being stripped away. 

Gavin didn’t want to think about it, but it had to be pretty damn obvious to Geoff and Ryan as they stared at him. Geoff sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. “That settles it, tomorrow we’ll take a trip to Fort Austin, do some negotiating.”

He left as well, leaving Gavin and Ryan.

Once he was sure that the last of the tears were suppressed, Gavin glanced up to find Ryan still staring at him. “What?” He demanded, trying desperately to keep his voice from cracking.

“You should go talk to him.”

“Who? Geoff? He won’t change his mind.”

Ryan shook his head. “Michael. He almost believed you, a few days ago. I could see it too, you just need something a little more convincing.”

Gavin shifted uneasily. At first, Ryan believing him had been reassuring. It at least gave Gavin reason to think he wasn’t completely mad. Now, as the universe continued to discredit him, Ryan seemed almost as desperate as Gavin. From the beginning, and even now, Ryan was the only one that believed fully.

“Well, where did he storm off to?” He already hated the idea, but it was all he had.

“I know exactly where.”

Michael was on the roof, throwing stones at the heads of the shamblers that walked past. Gavin stood for a moment at the door, watching the red-head on the edge, completely unaware of his observer. The first few stone throws were fierce, Gavin could hear them cracking against the skulls below. Michael had wicked aim.

Then the throws became weaker and weaker until he was half-heartedly bouncing them against the undead below. That was when Gavin allowed himself to walk closer.

“I don’t want a lecture, I know that was terrible but it had to be done.” Michael said without turning around. He was definitely not expecting Gavin. “Nothing is worse than false hope. For all we know, he was sent to drag me back.” That was when Michael finally decided to turn around, his face hardening as he realized that it was Gavin standing behind him. “What do you want?”

Gavin took a few cautious steps forward, and when Michael didn’t prevent him, he sat down next to young man on the ledge. “I just wanted to talk. Ryan said I would find you up here.”

They locked eyes for a split second before Michael picked up another stone and hurled it with renewed strength, bouncing it right off the skull of a passing by walker. “Yeah, well?”

“You think I’m lying to you?” Gavin decided to open with that, seeing as his previous plan might be a touch too hasty.

Michael shrugged, putting almost too much force behind the gesture. “I dunno. Maybe not with the name and some of the history, anyone can get that from old records or pictures.” His jaw set. “That could all be used to lure me back to Fort Austin. I mean, you’re prefect for it with your stupid accent and goofy words, you could fool anyone.”

Gavin opened his mouth to object, but one glare from Michael stopped him cold.

“They experimented on me, the undead avoid me like I’m the fucking plague, and my memory went to shit. I’m not going back to whatever that was.” Michael’s face softened slightly, Gavin could just barely see something deeper that raged behind those brown eyes. “I guess I just can’t trust your motives. Before the virus, you said we were friends, what kind of friends? You’ve got that ridiculous accent, I doubt we’re lifelong friends, yet the damn way you look at me.” Michael ran his hands through his curls, looking on the verge of a scream. “I guess I just don’t understand.”

For one of the first times in his life, Gavin lacked words. He knew there was only one way to express how he felt. He grabbed Michael’s face before the idiot could react and with more force than necessary, crashed their faces together.

It was a mouth he knew so well, had spent too much time memorizing every inch. For a long moment, Gavin thought he was going to be sent crashing to his doom. Michael would push him into the crowd of undead underneath them. Instead, to his utter surprise, Michael kissed back.


End file.
